


A Father's Regret

by GlowingMechanicalHeart



Series: Flash Fiction Friday [9]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, POV Elu Thingol, Parting, Regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28488243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlowingMechanicalHeart/pseuds/GlowingMechanicalHeart
Summary: “Will you not stay?” He finally asks, breaking the silence. His daughter turns, his little Lúthien. “This is still your home.”
Relationships: Beren Erchamion/Lúthien Tinúviel, Elu Thingol | Elwë Singollo & Lúthien Tinúviel
Series: Flash Fiction Friday [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003569
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	A Father's Regret

**Author's Note:**

> @flashfictionfriday's prompt #81 Turn back time

He stands in the doorway of his daughter’s chamber and simply watches.

He watches as she moves with still unmatched grace, with the elegance of the eldhil on her limbs, but she is no longer one of them. And he swallows down the knot in his throat and the bitterness, both were of his own making.

“Will you not stay?” He finally asks, breaking the silence. His daughter turns, his little Lúthien. “This is still your home.”

But his child, the greatest thing he ever did, simply shakes her head. “It is not my place anymore.” Her voice is soft, free of reproach and resentment. “I think it is best for Beren and I to leave, to make a home for our own.”

He swallows down disappointment, _‘your own fault’_ supplies his mind, his heart and soul. So he simply nods, “Very well,” he starts slowly. “But dear child, this will always be your place. Your home.” he stops and curses the lack of water and his dry mouth. “Should you and Beren ever wish it so, the doors of Menegroth and Doriath will always be open to you both.”

There is a sudden sadness in his daughter’s eyes. “I know, adar. And I thank you.”

They fall into silence once more, and there is so much he wishes he could say. But words fail him, the ones he has seem poor and ill suited for this moment. As if they could take away any remaining affection his daughter may still hold for him. So he does not speak, he simply watches until his daughter is done packing, he takes her bag without being asked. If this is one of the last things he’ll ever do for his daughter, then, at least, let him do so.

They walk side by side, Beren is waiting at the stables with his wife. The words ‘forgive me’, are at the tip of his tongue, but they somehow never manage to cross the threshold of his teeth. So he simply walks side by side with his daughter and does his best to commit to memory every single aspect of hers.

At the entrance of the stables, his heart wrenches. There, a very selfish part of him, wishes that he could turn back the days, the months, the years. Turn back to those days when Lúthien was a babe in his wife’s arms. But the bitter reality is, he can’t. His wife does not hold that power either, none save Eru could, possibly. And he doubts The One would feel very merciful at his pleading. It was he who drove his daughter away.

His wife had warned him, but pride had blinded him. It had taken his daughter, brave, beautiful child of his to make off and achieve the impossible. Only to die and return, and he, unable to do anything, simply lets her go.

Because now, it is the least he can do. He can remind her that this will ever be her home, for her and her now husband. But he can’t take back the words, the actions and only has himself to blame for this distance between him and his daughter.

His law-son is weary of him, and the only thing he is able to do is offer material comforts. The mortal will possibly never trust him, nor like him maybe. But he is the one who earned that mistrust and dislike, they are civil, for his daughter’s sake, even if love never grows between them, they both love Lúthien enough to put aside that dislike and be polite.

His daughter takes her bag and gives it to Beren, he places it in the horse that will bear his daughter away with the help of a stable hand, and once that is secured, his daughter mounts. And for a moment, his daughter looks at him with something he can’t quite place, and feels the hand of his wife slip into his own.

“Fare thee well, daughter. Son. Do remember, this will always be your home. You are welcome any time that you wish it.”

His daughter nods and Beren holds his hand over his heart. “Thank you adar, we shall remember.”

And with that, both riders set off. His mouth grows dry. And he simply stands there, and watches as his daughter grows smaller and crosses the lines of trees that make for Doriath, and she vanishes from his sight. And something inside of him dies, there is no turning back now.


End file.
